It's Hot in Here
by taylortot
Summary: The office is sweltering on a late Friday afternoon and for some reason, Roy can't seem to keep his eyes off his lieutenant.


**AN: This was written for a friend of mine over on tumblr and it's taken far far faaaar too long to write; I don't normally do lemons and I don't normally write them quite this graphically, but I hope its decent enough. Enjoy!**

**:::::**

He blinked slowly, lazily, not even bothering to hide his gaze anymore. Working in a sweltering office with a bunch of whining men was one thing. But when it was this hot and irritable and he could smell _her_ strawberry shampoo clinging to the air. . .

Well, Mustang's mind tended to wander.

Ever since she got back from lunch, all he could do was smell that shampoo permeate the air and stare at her. He didn't really have a choice in the matter. The shapeless uniform wasn't particularly flattering, but she'd taken off the jacket when the temperature in the room broke ninety degrees, just as all the men did, leaving her in that dark form-fitting military issue shirt. The way it hugged her curves forced him to stare, and the heat was beginning to crawl into his skin and affect his brain.

Sweat beaded at her hairline, plastering a few strands of her bangs to her forehead. Her cheeks were cherry with the heat, lips parted as she breathed, eyes focused as they skimmed the files on her desk. Her eyelashes were of average length, but he noticed that when she closed her eyes briefly to give them a reprieve from work how the lashes settled just across the top of her cheekbones. The blinds of the windows were closed to help block the heat out, but the lights burned off her hair like white fire, feeding the heat that began to itch under his clothes and down, down, down.

The longer he looked, the more irritated and frustrated he got.

It wasn't against the rules to admire Hawkeye the way he had been for the last couple hours, but it was illegal for him to consider taking action based on those observations. The swell of her hips, the curve of her waist, the shape of her chin, the perspiration on her face that glistened against the lights. They were polluting his mind, making it impossible to concentrate on the paperwork before him. His hand trembled slightly as she turned around and walked back to her desk near his. Was she aware of how her hips swayed when she walked? The confidence of a soldier in her shoulders, the bravery in her tilted chin?

The colonel had always considered Riza vaguely pretty - she was his teacher's daughter, the girl he associated with his childhood - but today she looked different. Maybe it was the lack of military coat or the light in her hair, or even the nearly indecipherable tick of irritability at the corner of her mouth. Whatever it was about her, his skin wouldn't stop crawling with the sudden desire to reach for her and strip her down. To make her skin itch with the desperation of wanting him. His hands continued to shake with the effort of restraining himself as the lieutenant placed the last stack of paperwork on the corner of his desk. He tried to forget that they were the only two left in the office at this time of day.

"These are it for the day, sir," she said, before wiping at the drop of perspiration lingering at her jaw. Even as unbearable as the office was, she was still strictly professional.

He couldn't look away from her, even though he knew he should. Had her lips always been so full? "Alright, Lieutenant."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, her brows furrowing in that concerned way they did when he forgot to eat a meal or yawned more than twice in half an hour. "Are you okay, Colonel? You look really warm. Maybe you should take your jacket off; the paperwork cannot afford for a fit of heat stroke."

"You look pretty hot yourself," he told her as he unbuttoned his jacket and slid out of it, teasing her with a smirk and the raise of an eyebrow.

"It's well over standard optimum temperature in the office, sir. Of course I'm hot." She deadpanned it, but there was something about the way her eyebrow ticked that made Roy aware she was perfectly conscious of the innuendo. And if he wasn't mistaken, were her cheeks looking a bit rosier? "I'm going to put these finished stacks in the secretary's office. I'll be right back."

He nodded as he rolled up his white shirt sleeves to the elbow, still unable to look away from her. Damn it, she was too mesmerizing; this was not right, what he wanted to do to her. She was his lieutenant, and he was her colonel. While he'd always muffled a high level of affection for her, this was different. This was carnal, impatient, demanding. His skin prickled with the anticipation of latching onto her, mind reeling with the things he wanted to show her, to do to her, to make her feel. He balled his hands into fists and tore his eyes from her, afraid that she could see the desire clouding his gaze. It would do no good for her to see something like that in her commanding officer, especially in the office.

Hawkeye's caramel eyes held a bit of cautious suspicion in them, probably wondering why he was acting so strangely. "Is that okay, Colonel?"

"What?" He blinked at her; had they been having a conversation? He couldn't remember.

"Are you sure you're okay, sir?" Her eyebrows drew in deeper with concern. Of all the things Mustang was, forgetful was not one of them, and both knew that. He tried to wrack his brain and recall what she had said before but nothing came to him except the way her tongue had just barely wetted her lips.

"I'm fine, Hawkeye, what was it you said?" He brushed her off and leaned forward across his desk, closer to her, eyes looking up to meet hers. A smile stretched across his face. He could smell her shampoo again, but this time there was a faint undertone of something else that was distinctly her.

She continued to eye him warily as she grabbed the stacks of completed paperwork and cradled them against her body, pressing to all the curves that he wanted to touch. Damn, he was desperate if he was jealous of the_ paperwork_.

"I said that I was going to take this paperwork down to the secretary office. Maybe you should take a break, sir." She hefted the files closer to her body and half turned away from him. "You seem. . ."

Oh, God, had she figured him out? "Sick?" he rasped to avert her attention from the real answer.

She raised an eyebrow. "More unfocused than usual."

He waved her off as casually as he could manage. "The heat is making you imagine things. I'm working as diligently as I ever do."

"Which isn't saying much," she replied flatly. Only he could hear how she was teasing him; anyone else would be immune.

His smile dropped. "Go take care of that paperwork, Lieutenant."

Her lips twitched and she nodded her head. "Yes, sir."

The hot sun slanting in through the cracks of the blinds seemed to highlight her figure as she walked purposefully from the room, her hips swaying, shoulders strong. He blinked after her hating how much his skin crawled with desire for her, how the craving to hold her close even in the heat flared up when he could no longer see her. This was unacceptable; he couldn't take feeling this itching, burning ache any longer.

Resolved, Mustang rose from his chair and marched out the door. It was pigheaded to assume that she would just go along with the ideas racing through his head, but there was really only one way to find out her answer. And Roy Mustang was not the kind of man to sit idly by. Risk-taking was in his blood. He didn't care that this might complicate the relationship he had with Hawkeye; if it took away this clawing urge to grip her bare skin and press those supple curves against his body then that would relieve his obsession with her.

Aw, who was he kidding? Just because he didn't constantly want to pants the lieutenant didn't mean he hadn't thought about it before. Usually, the thoughts would hit him when they were alone together after hours, finishing paperwork, or when the light caught her face in just the right way, or when her lips quirked ever so slightly; especially when he caught sight of her down on the shooting range, jacket absent, absolute confidence in her posture. The heat today had made him irritable, made him feel the force of her appeal as she shed her jacket and her skin glossed with perspiration.

Since the building was mostly empty, he knew that whatever Hawkeye would let him get away with wouldn't be a hard thing to keep hush-hush. Besides, there were many rumors of fraternization among the military that he'd heard through the grapevine; if there was no proof, there was no harm done. He contemplated how unprofessional he was being by letting his mind roam these thoughts but he didn't care at this point. The blonde haired woman had been around him almost every day for the past innumerable years of his life and he was at the end of his patience. Roy thought he deserved a gold star just for making it this far.

He walked forcefully down the hall toward the secretary office and peaked into the doorway when he got there. Hawkeye was leaning on the desk with one hand casually, ankles crossed, hips tilted to one side, making polite conversation with the secretary on duty, her usual military posture forgotten. The blinds in that room were open, and her face shone with the light film of sweat. His hands clenched into fists of their own accord, a shiver dancing down his spine as he held back any noise that wanted to come out. God, what was it about her today? She was driving him crazy and she wasn't trying. Didn't even know the affect she was having.

"It's a hot one today," the secretary was saying, her voice bearing the true weight of the statement.

Mustang continued to spy as Riza nodded and sighed. "I know. I think it broke the colonel. He's been acting strange all day."

The secretary rifled through her drawers, putting the files where they needed to go, fiddling with her glasses. "Well, you know how men get in this heat. Irritable. Impatient. It is Friday after all; doesn't he usually go out on Fridays? He's probably eager for that."

"I guess," Hawkeye responded after a short pause. Roy smirked; his lieutenant knew him better than that. He always worked his hardest on Friday afternoons because the sooner the paperwork was done, the sooner he could go out for a drink with Hughes or meet his lady informant at the restaurant of his choosing. It amused him that he had her so stumped.

She straightened away from the desk and offered a small smile to the secretary. "I'd better get back before the colonel dies of heat stroke."

The secretary waved her hand and smiled up at Riza briefly. "Alright, have a lovely weekend, ma'am."

The lieutenant smiled and thanked the woman before turning on her heel and heading for the door. Roy took a deep breath in and pushed away from the wall before assimilating a walk. A smirk threatened to pull his lips apart when Hawkeye walked right into him.

"Excuse me, I - Colonel?"

"There you are," he said with a brief smile, pushing away the thoughts, the urges, the feelings. The intense desire to shove her up against this wall in the middle of the hallway. "I forgot I wanted to ask you something."

She looked up at him and only barely concealed her confusion. His expression must have looked strange to her as he tried to hide the growing lust in his eyes. "You didn't have to leave your office, sir, I was just heading back there right now."

He ignored that. "This way, Hawkeye." As he passed her, he let his shoulder brush against hers just barely and the bewilderment that exuded from her made his smirk more pronounced. Mustang could be in the worst mood imaginable, but teasing Riza would always make him feel better because she made it far too easy with her stature. Like now, he could feel his blood begin to boil as his nerves fluttered in his stomach. This was wrong, to lure her somewhere private. But he had to try. He'd never sleep peacefully at night if he didn't try.

"This looks like a good place to talk," he said casually as he came to a halt in front of a door.

She looked at it for a moment before casting an incredulous sideways glance. "That's a janitorial closet, sir."

"Precisely," he replied with less confidence than before.

"And you want to talk in there?"

"That's what I said."

She squared her shoulders toward him and reached forward as if she was going to grab his arm, pausing midair between them. Confusion wasn't a strong enough word for what she was feeling; the Colonel was acting downright strange today and it worried her. "Are you sure you're okay, sir? You don't feel sick at all?"

He frowned and she saw with some astonishment that his cheeks were reddening. "Just come on." Her eyebrows shot up in surprise when he grabbed her by the wrist and opened the door, throwing both of them into the small, dark space. All three walls were lined with shelves, most empty, some littered with cleaning supplies. Riza smacked her elbow on one as Mustang closed the door and turned the lock.

Apprehension started to flutter in her stomach and it made her uneasy that she couldn't see anything. "Colonel?"

"Listen to me, Lieutenant," he whispered hoarsely, his voice less than a foot away from her. Her heartbeat increased slightly and she cursed it as the beads of sweat dripped down her face. "I'm going to ask you a question and I need you to take me one-hundred percent seriously; that's an order. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course," she responded without hesitation. It was Colonel Mustang; they'd only been constant companions since childhood. How could she deny him anything, really?

There was a quick sound of a flick and the dim bulb glowed to life above, casting shadows that allowed them to barely see one another's face. "Do you ever think of me as a man and not your superior officer?"

Hawkeye blanched because that was the last thing she expected out of his mouth. But she did promise an answer, and he ordered it to be truthful. She wouldn't start disobeying him now, even if the question did make her uncomfortable. "I don't see what that has to do with anything concerning our work relationship, sir, but I'd be a blind and ignorant woman to have never thought about you as a man."

The words were barely out of her mouth before his lips fit against hers snugly. Her eyes shot open wider as she processed that he was kissing her; that Colonel Roy Mustang was kissing her. The colonel was kissing her! Lips against hers, gentle and unyielding; confident lips. Her eyes could only widen when he cupped her face and tilted her head back, her knees weakening, heart speeding up. Even in the hot, hot room, the heat of his chest inches away from her burned through her shirt.

No! What was he doing? He wasn't allowed to do this to her and she wasn't allowed to enjoy it! She shoved him away from her, her chest heaving. Their eyes met in the dusk of the room and then she lifted her hand and smacked it across his face. He recoiled from her instantly, indignation filling his expression just as equally as embarrassment.

"Are you a complete idiot?" she barked at him, glaring up into the shadows of his face. "Do you have _any_ idea how senseless you're being?"

He chuckled nervously as he rubbed the rising welt on his face. "Well, I-."

"Permission to act freely, sir?"

"Permission grant -." The rest of his response was muffled as Riza stepped closer to him and tilted her chin up, rejoining their mouths forcibly. He could feel his surprise all over his face, his slick skin slipping against her mouth as the heat engulfed both of them.

It felt nice, kissing him. Far better than it should have, as a matter of fact, and Hawkeye knew there were ten thousand reasons why this shouldn't be happening. There was, however, one reason why it should and that was good enough for her. The lieutenant was known for following orders and being a stickler for the laws, but Roy Mustang was the exception to every single one of her rules. Their lips slid together recklessly like those stolen days they'd spent climbing the hills beyond her house so many years ago, alchemy books and picnic blankets tucked under armpits.

Mustang reached for his lieutenant's face again, fingertips sliding along her jaw and into her hair, cupping the back of her neck. She grabbed his damp shirt in fistfuls and unlatched her mouth for a brief moment.

"I could have you court martialed for the sexual harassment of a subordinate, Colonel," she said soberly, the twitching ends of her lips giving away the intent of her words.

He grinned at her in the shadows, pulling her face closer to his until his nose touched the curve of her cheek. His lips pressed harshly to the corner of her mouth. Flirting he could do. "Then do it."

She kissed him back, her skin itching, hands gripping his shirt with a white-knuckled hold. "You doubt me?"

A laugh bubbled between their lips as he let her pull him closer. "Not at all. I'd like to see your testament against not wanting this _in the least_, Lieutenant."

The heat in her skin driving forward, she pushed him into the shelves and kept him a forearm's length away, an eyebrow raised while every cell in her body said _kiss him, touch him, love him_. "You're overstepping your boundaries as a commanding officer, sir."

"And you're overstepping yours as my subordinate. Shall we just pretend you aren't molesting me with equal fervor?" He smirked and seized her hips roughly, eyes darting down in the darkness before meeting hers again. The look on his face stole her breath away and something tightened in her belly, making her ache for more contact. "I've wanted to do this all day," he said, his voice suddenly husky.

Hawkeye pressed her hot, sweating body against his slowly. Their eyes never wavered and the heat - oh God, and she thought she was hot before - in her skin urged her to forget everything she knew just to become consumed by the recklessness that Mustang was, to feel the rush of a risk and taste the desire on his tongue. His fingers dug into her hips, gripping the heavy fabric of the military pants. She tried to hold in her gasp as her chest was pressed into the plains of his, but even with the clothes separating the slick skin of their bodies, she was just so damned turned on. Be it the heat, be it the circumstance, or be it the colonel himself, the strange pit of fire in Riza's stomach was raging to be satiated.

Her eyes darted to his lips as he kept her hips firmly against his and let her tongue dart out to sweep around her mouth lightly. Fists tightening around his shirt, she pressed her wet mouth against his with a bruising force that drew out a moan from the back of his throat. Suddenly, this wasn't gentle or teasing anymore; this wasn't about being long overdue or unprofessional.

This was purely about instinct, about the gravitational pull and the unsubtle compatibility of Mustang and his lieutenant. It went without saying what they needed because they'd always been people of few words. Hawkeye knew every pulse of the colonel; she knew what the air felt like when he was around, the way it whistled soundlessly when he moved, the deliberate force of his soul as he entered a room. And in turn, he made it seem like he was clueless about her, but his perception of her emotions went so deep he could read her like a book even over a phone line.

Roy's hands were making hasty, shaky work of progress as he pressed the calloused tips of his fingers against the fragile, unmarked skin of her stomach, inching up the fabric of her shirt. She sighed against his mouth as she raised herself higher against him, one hand raking through his hair carelessly, pressing his head forward so that it was ever closer to hers. His hands cupped her waist, sliding against the slippery skin, gripping onto her for leverage.

Suddenly he pushed her away and she groaned unhappily, opening her mouth to protest as he lifted her shirt over her head abruptly. The retort died on her tongue and her heart hammered with nervousness as he looked at her, the shirt cast on the floor. Slowly, Mustang pushed her away, following, until her back was against the opposite wall and pressed to the shelves. The woman was going mad with desire, unsure what he was waiting for until he dipped his head and began sliding his tongue gently against her neck, kissing and licking.

"Colonel," she murmured, one of her hands twisting into the hair at the base of his neck, her body shuddering as he placed the open-mouthed kisses on all the right places. "We don't have all day."

"I'm going to do this right," he replied against her skin as his head dipped lower, his teeth at her clavicle. He smirked against her skin when she gasped as he brought one hand up to cup her breast, the other arm winding around her back. Their hips pressed together, he began to slowly skim his hand over the covering of her bra, barely squeezing, his thumb daringly brushing over the center. She moaned deep in her throat as his hand traced the wire of the bra underneath, teasing endlessly.

Hawkeye hissed at him as she tightened her fist in his hair and grabbed his wandering hand with her free one. "I thought you said you were going to do this right," she griped, using her hand to guide his as they groped her breast together.

He made no response as he moved his mouth lower, his breath and tongue hotter than her slick skin as he worked over the swell on the other side of her chest. She felt was trembling in his grip, hardly able to stand, as she reached and ripped open the buttons in his shirt as fast as she could. The air left her lungs when he trailed his tongue against the line of the fabric of the bra.

"You're shirt is soaked," she gasped as she struggled to push it off his shoulders, hands slipping against his slick skin.

"It's hot in here," he murmured against her chest, allowing her to throw the shirt on the floor somewhere behind him. While she was at it, the lieutenant reached for his belt buckle and unclasped it in one swoop, her hands brushing slightly against the all too obvious bulge in his pants.

"Damn it," he hissed.

"Out of all the places we could have done this," she huffed, moaning as he kissed over the swell of her breast and working his way toward the valley between them, "you chose a closet. I dont. . .understa-mmf-understand you sometimes." She curled her hands over his belt and began to pull down his clothes but she didn't get far before his hands were suddenly shoving her bra straps off her shoulders, pushing the offending article down so that her chest became exposed to him, and he kissed her madly on the lips.

She moaned heavily against his mouth, unable to conceal her desire, as she reached around her back and undid the clasp of the bra. Roy tossed the thing away from them and pressed his slick chest down against hers, his tongue greedily exploring her mouth as she rolled her hips against his. He groaned and bit her lip when Hawkeye placed her hands on his ass and shifted against him again.

"Why are you still wearing pants?" she muttered, her body blazing like the ignition cloth of his gloves. Being with him like this was unsatisfying and totally fulfilling at the same time. But there was never enough of him. She could smell him and feel him and hear him as he whispered her name against the skin of her chest and the plump flesh of her mouth, but still it wasn't enough.

"Why are _you_?" he gasped. Her heart jumped into her throat when he took his hands and made quick work of the belt. She met his kiss hungrily as she toed out of her boots and kicked the military uniform off, her spine shivering as she felt the silk of her underwear being pulled down.

"Colonel," she panted against his ear as she stepped out of her underwear, hooking her hands into his belt. "You're still overdressed for this occasion."

"So it would seem," he uttered, his fingers slipping against her skin as they clumsily made their way down the length of her torso. She didn't have time to wonder at the fact that he was seeing and touching her for the first time without any shred of clothing because her mind was too hungry. The hunger burned low in her belly and she cried out against biting her lip as his hand slipped between her legs. Her fingers fumbled on his belt and she groaned low and deep, spreading her legs as one of his fingers slipped inside her.

She couldn't think anymore, couldn't do anything with his damned belt because he pressed her shoulder back against the shelf and ravished her neck. His hand began to move under her, slowly, teasingly, testing and exploring. Her mouth was hot against his ear as she panted and then she nipped at the earlobe, nudging his head with hers while her arms snaked around his back and her short fingernails dug in.

A second finger slipped in and she gasped too loudly; the pressure was building and her limbs shook from the effort of standing. After a moment he pulled his hand away from her and she wanted to scream because she wanted him so much, was sick of feeling loss and emptiness. She'd only ever been with one other man - a boy really, both of them fooling around in her last year of school, before Mustang had returned from the Academy - but it hadn't felt like this. This was sure and strong and hot; unwavering compared to the shaky, mediocre passion of her teenage crush.

"Are you protected?" he gasped as she leaned away and peppered his face with kisses, his hands fumbling and finally besting his belt, shoving his pants down with his hands and taking his boxers with them.

"I can't get pregnant," she breathed desperately, aching and crazed, pausing for a moment to stare down between them at what his boxers had been hiding just seconds ago. Her eyes came back up to see that he was shocked by her statement but she didn't have time for his shock and she didn't want anything but him right now. He was going to damn well finish what he started.

"Colonel," she murmured, tightening her arms, nails digging into the skin on his sweat-slicked back, "kiss me."

He complied without hesitation, leaning forward to capture her lips. Both of them groaned into each other's open mouths as their hips rubbed against one another and the colonel couldn't wait any longer. Reaching down, he hooked his hand around one of her knees and brought it up to his hip, kissing her jaw relentlessly as she tugged at his hair.

Her head fell forward into the crook of his neck as he finally - finally! - entered her and she moaned the loudest she had yet. Roy could feel himself unraveling already and he forced his mouth hungrily down on Hawkeye's to muffle the sounds they were both making as he began to set the pace after he had given her a moment to adjust.

In and out. Her hands slipped wildly against his back, trying to find purchase. A little faster. His hands tightened on her waist and her knee, pressing her body closer so that there was no separation. In and out. Tongues met, names were hissed, and teeth scraped. The room was so hot and clogged with the perspiration rolling off their bodies it would be a miracle if they would ever feel chill against their skin again. In and out. Heat and an ache stronger than before flaring up. The lieutenant finally found a grip again on his ass, and ohh God, how that changed things.

"Hawkeye," he grunted out with his mouth to her neck, their skin slipping against each other's. Faster. Her strawberry smell was overpowering him this close to her and it clung to everything. Urged him on. Made her mouth drop and her eyes screw shut as he shifted his hips slightly different against her. Faster. From the sounds she was making, she couldn't be far off.

Her fingers flexed around his ass, pulling him in deeper with the adjusted angle and that was it, yes, right _there_. She cried out each time and he repeated her name over and over like a mantra, like a rosary prayer, unable to hide behind military ranks any longer.

It didn't take much longer after he quickened the pace further. Soon, she was unraveling, falling to pieces, clutching him as she cried his name into his shoulder. He came soon after, kissing her like a starving man to hide her name, kissing her with such sloppy passion that the entire lower halves of their faces were covered in saliva, yet it didn't hinder as he fell against her moments later, satisfied.

Sliding out of her, he dropped her knee and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his head against the part of her chest where her heart still hammered wildly.

Her hands slipped through his hair and she quietly said, "Seems like you got a bit too reckless with it."

He tilted his head back to look up, still keeping his ear pressed there. "What?"

Her face was still flushed from the heat and the sex, but she spoke without blushing, straight forward and blunt. The very same Hawkeye that Roy had always loved. "My heart, sir. You might try treating it kindly every once in a while. It does belong to you after all."


End file.
